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“¡Lo fusilaron!”They shot him.
Shock slipped over Grace as she recognized the words being uttered all around her.
“Am I in danger?” she asked the woman with the pig. “I’m holding a child. I’m no threat to them.”
The bus lurched forward. Suddenly, it was their turn to be searched. More and more passengers were looking back at her now, raising the downy hairs on Grace’s arms. Given their expressions, she would be next.
The woman with the pig stood abruptly. “Quickly, you must get off the bus. Use the door at the back.”
Grace stared at her, dumbfounded. “Where would I go?”
“You must leave,” agreed the old man sitting behind them. “They are killing all foreigners. Here, I will help you with the door.”
The bus’s brakes gave a hiss. Grace heard the shout for the driver to open the bus door. She didn’t waste another second. Seizing her backpack with one hand, she hefted Mateo higher with the other and sidled past the pig, moving toward the exit two rows back. Astonishingly, several hands reached and touched her.
“Que Dios la defienda, señora.”May God defend you, lady.
With a yank on the handle, the old man shoved the emergency exit open. Bus fumes rose into Grace’s nostrils.
“I will hold the boy. You jump.”
Grace refused to relinquish Mateo. Freeing a hand, she lowered herself to the filthy bus floor, scooted toward the opening, and dropped at least two feet to the dark asphalt, nearly spilling the contents of her arms. Caught in the glare of the car behind them, Grace straightened, rounded the closing door, and hurried toward the guardrail opposite the side of the bus where the soldiers were boarding.
Every car in line could see her, but not a single voice cried out for her to stop as she hurdled the guardrail, keeping a death grip on Mateo, who slept on. A steep, grassy bank rose before her, bathed in blue strobe lights. Digging the toes of her boots into the rocky soil, Grace ran up it as fast as her rubbery legs allowed. A swift glance back showed that she wasn’t being pursued, not yet, anyway.
With her heart pounding, she set her sights on the dark buildings clinging to the slope above her. At last, she reached them and concealed herself from view in a grassy alley, where she paused to catch her breath. Shock caught up to her belatedly, sucking the strength from her legs, even as a river of warmth trickled down her thigh.
Shaken to the core, she slid weakly down a roughly textured wall until she collapsed in the brittle grass at its foundation and peered around.
Amos had been right. She was out of her mind to have come to Venezuela on her own. But at least these particular buildings appeared abandoned, and no one had spotted her.
Mateo, awakened at last by her jostling, sat up in her lap and eyed his surrounding in bewilderment. The reality that she was responsible for his well-being hit her like a bolt of lightning.What have I done?
Peter’s advice, as they’d charged her phone up at the school, came back to her. He had given her a number to call if she ran into trouble or couldn’t find her way to the airport. She fumbled in her backpack for her cell phone and powered it on, having kept it off until then to save her charge.
As she dimmed the light on her screen, Mateo wriggled in her lap, wanting to get up. She could tell by his behavior that he had to go, so she put off placing a call long enough to assist him in peeing on the building. In that instant, her phone gave a chime that spiked her adrenaline.
Someone could have heard that! As she went to silence her ringer, it chimed again.Shhh!Her fingers trembled uncontrollably. Mateo was buttoning his pants. As soon as he was done, she tugged him back into her lap and studied her phone. Curiously, she had received two WhatsApp messages from an unfamiliar number.
Even with the brightness dimmed, the words of the first message, bearing yesterday’s date, jumped out at her.
Grace, I am without words. That you could put your life so casually at risk when you mean so much to me and to Simon is appalling.
It was Amos, railing at her actions. She could practically hear his voice raised in ire. Wait, she meantso muchto him? Her heart gave a joyous backflip.
Please respond when you arrive. If you need help, I will find a way.
His next message sent just recently, provided her a way.
If you can get to Caracas by Saturday night, call this number.He left her a number that was twelve digits long.Tell her, Jake said she would help you.
The cryptic message confused her. Who wasJake,and who wasshe?It scarcely mattered as this was the lifeline she was looking for. Beyond grateful to Amos for tossing it her way, she thumbed the number, prompting her cell phone to call it automatically. The money Amos had paid her had allowed her to extend her international data plan.
With her phone pressed to her ear, she soothed Mateo’s uncertain whimpers by stroking his back. “It’ll be okay, baby. Someone’s going to help us.” But the phone rang and rang. Grace’s hopes plunged as a recording answered, in Spanish, “You have called Magdalena Montoya. Please leave a message.”
Uncertain whether the woman she was calling spoke any English, Grace left a message in halting Spanish. “My name is Grace. I’m an American. Um, Jake said you could help me if I got to Caracas. I’m…somewhere in Caracas hiding from the police. I really need your help. Please call me back.”
Hanging up, she became aware of Mateo’s trembling. He had to have understood her words and was quick to pick up on her fear. “It’s okay, darling. Go back to sleep. Mommy’s got you.” She pressed his silky head down on her shoulder and swayed to soothe him.
